At noon, Ethan entered his father's office.
Richard was reviewing a property development proposal with two executives. He dismissed them when he saw his son.
"What is it?"
"I need to know what happened at the tournament."
Richard closed the folder.
"We've discussed this."
"No, you've ordered me to stop asking questions."
"Because there is nothing productive to gain from revisiting the past."
"Then explain why the records disappeared."
Richard's expression changed.
"You know about that," he said.
"Where did you hear it?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
"I spoke to someone who worked at the medical center. They said the original incident report was transferred to the organizers under your authorization."
"Who did you speak to?"
"I'm not telling you."
His father walked around the desk.
"Ethan, listen to me carefully. You are confusing a tragic event with a conspiracy."
"Then why can't you explain it?"
"Because the details were handled by lawyers, medical professionals, and the tournament's management. I was not responsible for the fight."
"But you were responsible for the records."
"I was responsible for administrative matters."
"Did you know Michael Mercer?"
Richard looked away.
"Yes," Richard said.
"What was he like?"
"Young. Talented. Reckless."
"Just like Daniel?"
"Daniel was a different kind of fighter."
"How?"
Richard walked to the window.
"Daniel believed every problem could be solved by taking responsibility for it. He thought that if he worked hard enough, protected the right people, and followed the rules, everything would eventually make sense."
"That sounds reasonable."
"It was his weakness."
"Michael wanted to prove himself. Daniel wanted to protect him. Neither understood the people who were making decisions around them."
"What decisions?"
Richard turned.
"The tournament had sponsors. Investors. A schedule. Contracts. People who expected certain things to happen. There was money involved, and the event was under pressure to succeed."
"So somebody forced the fight to continue?"
Richard's face became unreadable.
"I didn't say that."
"But you didn't deny it."
"I won't discuss this with you."
"You always do this. You give me half an answer and expect me to be grateful."
"I have spent my life making sure you never have to understand what happened that night."
"Why?" he asked.
Richard seemed to realize he had said too much.
He returned to his desk and picked up the folder.
"Because it was a tragedy."
"No. Tragedies happen. People don't erase records because they're embarrassed."
"Enough!"
Ethan stepped back.
"You have a future. You have opportunities that most people never receive. Do not throw them away because you want to play detective."
"What if Daniel is right?"
"About what?"
"That somebody is hiding something."
Then he said, "You have no idea what you're asking."
That afternoon, he returned to Blackstone and found Daniel replacing a broken hinge on the equipment cupboard.
Ethan stood nearby for almost a minute before speaking.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"About the tournament. Six years ago."
Daniel stopped turning the screwdriver.
"Who told you about it?" he asked.
"My father."
Daniel looked at him.
"Your father told you about the tournament?"
"He admitted he knew your brother."
Daniel set the screwdriver down.
"What else did he say?"
"That the event was under pressure. That there was money involved. That people expected certain things to happen."
"Did he tell you what happened to Michael?"
"No."
"Then he didn't tell you much."
Ethan looked toward the training floor.
"I think he knows more than he's saying."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want to know the truth."
"Do you?"
"What does that mean?"
"It means truth isn't always something you enjoy discovering."
"I'm not afraid of it."
Daniel picked up the screwdriver again.
"Then stop asking me to make it easy for you."
Finally, he said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For yesterday."
Daniel looked at him.
"I shouldn't have challenged you like that. I was angry, and I wanted to make you look foolish."
"Why?"
"Because you made me look foolish first."
"I told you about your footwork."
"Exactly."
"I know how that sounds."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
For the first time, Daniel saw genuine embarrassment in the young man's face. Not the theatrical discomfort of someone caught making a mistake, but the deeper shame of someone beginning to understand why he had made it.
Daniel placed the screwdriver on the shelf.
"Your father is going to make you choose between protecting his reputation and finding out what happened."
"You don't know my father."
"I know the look on his face when he thinks something is about to cost him."
"You're saying he's guilty?"